Page 22 of Taken By the Mobster

Olivia shrugged. “Relieved and pissed at the same time. Not that there was much she could do about it. Daddy was so proud of me for stepping up and agreeing to do the right thing.”

Declan removed all the blood from her foot as she talked, then he wrapped the bandage around her wounded foot and taped it in place. When he was done, he patted her leg and rose to his feet with his drink in hand. He swallowed the last of it and set the glass on the bureau.

“Why does Clyde want you back so bad? Did he fall in love with you or something?” The thought made Declan want to kill the little shit.

Olivia snorted. “No. It took both my father and Donovan Muldoon to convince Clyde to marry me. To sweeten the deal, he offered Muldoon a four-million-dollar dowry. Two million when we got engaged and another two million to be delivered after we said our vows.”

“Clyde doesn’t want you,” Declan said. “He wants the rest of the money.”

Olivia stared at him. She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut.

Declan sat on the edge of the bed. “What? What is it, Liv?”

Olivia lowered her voice until it was a low whisper. “I … I took the money, Declan. My father put the money in a joint account in both of our names, mine and Clyde’s. Before I left, I emptied the account and transferred all the money to an overseas account under the Olivia Miller name. It vanished overnight.”

“Jesus Christ,” Declan muttered. “You stole the money?”

Olivia nodded. “He wants me dead, and he wants the money. Those are the only two things that matter to him. That’s why I can’t go home as much as I might want to. He won’t hesitate to kill me.”

“Olivia—.”

“If you let me go, I’ll give you half the money,” she blurted. She got to her feet and stood in front of him, wobbling slightly. “Let me go and it’s yours. I’ll disappear and you’ll never hear from me again, but you’ll be a million dollars richer. All you have to do is turn your back long enough for me to leave. I’m safer on my own.”

Declan shook his head and rose to his feet. “Absolutely not. I can’t protect you if I let you go.”

“What?”

“Don’t you understand?” He took her arm and held it tight. “I want to keep you safe, Liv. I need to keep you safe. But I can only do that if you’re with me.”

“What do you mean you need to keep me safe?”

Declan realized he was still in love with Olivia after all this time. Overcome with emotion, he wrapped an arm around her waist and rested his forehead against hers. “I love you. I never stopped loving you. And now, by some crazy act of God, you drop back into my life, and I have a chance to do it over. The right way this time. I won’t let anyone come between us. You are mine, Liv O’Reilly. I will protect you no matter what.”

He ducked his head and caught her lips in his, as Olivia pushed up on her toes to meet him. His heart pounded as the kiss deepened. It had been too long since he’d tasted her lips and held her in his arms. He wouldn’t let her get away again.

Declan released her and took a step back to calm down. “I better get back downstairs. I need to get Murphy and Walsh on the road.”

Olivia nodded. “Thank you for taking care of my foot,” she whispered breathlessly.

“You’re welcome,” he replied. He brushed a kiss across her lips.

The door flew open, and Conor darted inside. “Deck, it’s Drew. He’s here, downstairs. He’s beat to shit, but he’s alive.”

Chapter 11

Olivia

Olivia dressed quickly, even though the clothes Declan brought her were too big and the undergarments were too small. The shoes were the right size, though hideously ugly: the color of dirt and chunky with a thick heel, squared-off toes, and a large, gold buckle across the top. Olivia would have to make do with what they had given her.

After dressing herself, Olivia perched on the edge of the bed, twisted her hands in her lap, and stared at the door. After a few minutes, she pushed herself to her feet and crossed the room. She opened the door a few inches and listened. Voices rose from the floor below, faint, indiscernible. Olivia stepped into the hall, turned around, and put her palm flat against the door. She eased it closed without making a sound, then she walked down the corridor, slowly, pausing every few feet to listen. She reached the bottom of the first set of stairs and listened, making sure that she hadn’t been heard and that the murmur of voices remained the same. When she was confident that no one was coming, she continued down the second flight of stairs to the foyer.

“We need to do something!” Declan yelled from the back of the house.

Declan’s voice sent a chill rushing through her, and she froze as goosebumps rose on her skin. Olivia exhaled and hurried down the remaining stairs. At the bottom of the stairs, she paused and listened. Voices came from the back of the house. Olivia headed down the hall, letting some marrow-deep instinct pull her to a library-like room in the middle of the house. She stopped outside the door and peered into the room.

Declan’s men had gathered in a rough half-circle around a long sofa. Ezra and Declan kneeled on the floor beside it where a tall, gaunt man in his late twenties laid. Despite his battered appearance, Olivia recognized him immediately. It was Drew, the man she’d seen with Clyde. Declan’s brother.

Conor hadn’t been exaggerating when he said Drew was beat to shit. Drew’s face was swollen twice its size, and it looked purple and grotesque. A cut split his lip in two places, and there was a cut above his eyebrow that wouldn’t heal without stitches. Every few seconds, he would groan loudly.

---